


Safe and Warm

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [90]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Affection, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Avenger Reader (Marvel), Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Hoodies, Pre-Relationship, Reader-Insert, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24887236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: There were a lot of reasons that you liked stealing Loki's clothes. It seemed that he didn't mind.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [90]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 10
Kudos: 290





	Safe and Warm

**Author's Note:**

> This is for anybody who read [Wrapped with Care](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329011) and asked for something from the reader's POV.

The first time it happened, you were on a mission. It was you and Loki somewhere in Russia. Steve was along with you, and Natasha, but they were out there somewhere, keeping a closer eye on the head of the organization and his cronies. You couldn’t help but feel a little like an afterthought. A genetically-enhanced super soldier, an assassin who’d been trained from birth, and alien royalty. And you. Granted, you had more than the average tech skills—Tony called you a technomancer, but it wasn’t anything as serious as that. You were just really good with computers. So your job on this mission was to stay plugged into the organization’s system, keep an eye on their security and make sure that they didn’t know that you were there. 

It was cold as fuck. You were holed up with Loki in a tiny, rundown hotel room. There was only one bed, which of course had made you snort a little when you saw it, but neither of you planned on sleeping so it didn’t really matter. Loki didn’t seem at all bothered by the draft that blew in from around the window, but it cut through all your many layers. You hadn’t yet gotten desperate enough to try to wrap the hotel blanket around yourself, but you were getting there. You’d risk bedbugs or fleas or whatever germs were leftover from past occupants of this room if it meant you could be warmer.

You kept quiet for as long as you could. The room was silent except for the sound of your keyboard here and there. Things were tense, even though, so far, the mission was going smoothly. You couldn’t shake the feeling that that could change at any minute. It didn’t help that you were the team rookie. Maybe once you’d gotten more of these trips under your belt, you could relax a little. But for now, the silence was...a lot.

“You’re seriously not _cold_?!” You hated how whiny you sounded. Loki just looked at you without speaking. At least he didn’t roll his eyes. “You’re sitting right next to the window, you can’t feel that draft?”

“I’m fine.” He sounded impassive. You didn’t know exactly what he was doing there by the window, but he’d been gazing out at the snowy landscape for a while now. Maybe it was some kind of magic. You didn’t want to ask and risk distracting him from something vital. You brought your hands to your mouth and breathed hot breath onto your fingers. It helped for a second. 

Alright. Maybe the whole point of being an Avenger was ignoring your physical discomfort. You forced yourself to focus on the screen again. Loki stood up, but you didn’t let yourself look at him. He was moving a lot, fumbling with his clothing. You tried not to laugh to yourself. Maybe he was too hot. 

Anyway, you did your best to ignore him. If he needed your attention, he’d ask for it. He came to stand too close to you, and you flinched when you felt him drape something over your shoulders. A hooded sweatshirt. You sat up a little straighter and turned to shoot him a questioning look. 

“I don’t need it,” he said simply. He let his gaze rest on you for only a moment before he turned away and went back to the window. The fact that he didn’t look at you again made it a little easier for you to slip your arms through the arms of his sweatshirt and pull it a little tighter around yourself. There was a surprising warmth in the fabric. You’d never really thought about Loki’s body heat before, but now that it was there, seeping into your skin, it was nice. You pulled the hood up over your head as well, and a spiced, almost musky scent flooded your senses. Was this the smell of Loki? As surreptitiously as you could manage, you pulled the hood a little closer to your nose. It was lovely.

You kept his sweatshirt even after Steve and Nat got back, even as you packed everything up and hurried back to the jet to get out of there. On the flight home, you pulled the hood down low over your eyes and finally allowed yourself to fall asleep surrounded by the scent of Loki. He said nothing, but his sharp eyes took in everything about the sight of you.

You didn’t _really_ want to give the sweatshirt back. There was some strange possessiveness in you that reared its head every time you thought about giving it back. So maybe you held onto it a little longer than you really needed to. You only wore it in your room, never where Loki could actually see you, and if you slept a little more peacefully when you wore it, surely that was only because it kept you warm. Loki didn’t ask for it. He did, however, start talking to you about other things a little more than he had before. You started spending more time together outside of missions. You started _hanging out_. That seemed like a kind of miracle, but you were always hesitant to study it too carefully, lest you ruin it. 

When the two of you finally gave in to whatever it was that you were feeling, no one in the Tower was surprised. It kind of happened without either of you realizing it: you were hanging out more and more and you were looking at him more and more and then, one night, you were kissing. And that was that. The two of you came together as a pair and it just felt _right_. He was always a little uneasy in the Tower, but not when you were next to him. Hell, even you started to feel a little more like you belonged there. You started sleeping together—literally sleeping together—and discovered that you both had nightmares. Loki was a greater source of comfort than you could have expected him to be, and you hoped that he felt the same about you.

You tried to limit the amount of his clothing that you stole from him, unwilling to fall into that silly stereotype of the girl who stole her partner’s clothing, but he truly didn’t seem to mind. If you slept in his room at night, you usually slept in one of his shirts. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you when you did, and it was hard to tell if that was just part of the whole “honeymoon period” thing or if he liked the way you looked. He pulled you close, gripping you tightly through the material of his clothes, and kissed you within an inch of your life. Whatever the cause, you loved it. You slept especially deeply in his bed. In his arms. You’d never really let yourself imagine that anything could be like this, especially not with _Loki_ , but it was.

One night, you accompanied him back to his room after one of Tony’s parties. Loki had gone of his own accord this time—he hadn’t made Thor persuade him. Maybe it had something to do with the dress that you’d picked out and modeled for him the week before. He’d worn his black suit and slicked his hair back and looked distractingly gorgeous. It was hard to stay even remotely professional, and practically impossible to keep your hands off of him. When it was finally socially acceptable for the two of you to disappear, you’d done so, and undressed each other almost frantically.

Afterwards, you’d scooped up his dress shirt from the floor and put it on. It smelled like him, dark and rich and delicious, and his expensive cologne only accented that. Was this better than his sweatshirt? You’d buttoned it up, though not all the way to your throat, and when he’d looked at you, his jaw dropped open. You felt heat rise into your cheeks as he took in the sight of you, and his eyes had grown dark again. You liked the way it felt to wrap yourself in his clothes, but it looked like he _also_ liked the way it looked. Neither of you had gotten much sleep that night.

Wearing his clothes felt right. It felt _good_. Even when he was gone on missions, wrapping yourself in his scent, in his...essence, it made you feel safe. You’d never really brought it up to him, or asked him for anything, but he took to giving you an old shirt or jacket before he had to leave. You slept in it every night until he was back beside you again. Sometimes you’d wake up to the sight of him standing beside your bed, just...looking at you.

You started wearing his things in the common areas of the Tower. The first time he’d joined you in the living room and realized what you were wearing, he’d looked at you with a kind of awe in his eyes. It was like he was shocked that you’d do something like that where the rest of the team could see you. He’d crashed his lips against yours and his kiss told you things that you knew he found it difficult to say aloud. But of course you didn’t mind if people knew that you were his. You _wanted_ people to know that. He had simple taste in clothing, so you rarely wore anything that was distinctively his, but the two of you knew. The team came to realize it as well. No one gave either of you a hard time about it, thankfully, but you saw the way Thor’s face would lighten sometimes, and the way he’d wink at Loki. 

You still had the sweatshirt that had started it all. Each time it stopped smelling like him, you would wash it with your dirty clothes and give it back. He’d wear it for a little while, and your heart would swell with pride when you smelled your laundry detergent against his skin. Maybe that was how he felt when he saw you. After a few days, he’d press it back into your hands, or he’d hang it on the hook behind your door and look at you with eyes full of words unspoken.

The one time that you tried to assure him that he didn’t have to give it back, he shook his head slowly and pushed you backwards into bed. “I like seeing you in it,” he said in a low voice. It rumbled through his chest and against your skin. He drew the skin of your throat between his teeth and bit down just hard enough to make you shiver. 

“I like wearing it.” It was practically a whisper, like you were confessing something he didn’t already know. You’d laughed at yourself, then, and worked your fingers through his hair. He liked that a lot. If you could, you would have done it for him forever. You wanted to do all kinds of things for him, give him all kinds of love and attention that he’d missed out on growing up. He didn’t like speaking about his childhood, but you knew enough. “It makes me feel protected.”

He’d pulled back a little, then, to study your face. He was mostly past the point where he’d laugh when you said things like that. The world was shifting. People’s perception of him was shifting. Maybe that meant that his own perception of himself could start to shift, too. He didn’t call himself a monster much any more. That fact alone was enough to make you want to cry sometimes. He’d gazed at you and then cupped your cheek in his palm. “You will be protected for as long as I continue to draw breath.” His voice was rough, fiery. It left no room for doubt. 

You’d had to blink back sudden tears, then, and then you reached to caress his cheek. “I know. _I love you._ ” Words felt so weak when it came to him, and what you felt for him. All too often, you had to rely on your touch, your kiss, to have even the slightest scrap of hope of showing him how you felt. Thankfully, he often seemed to know. He’d smiled, then, and lowered his lips to yours. 

You kissed him with all that you had.

He was everything to you.


End file.
